


Dreaming and dying

by gelukstraan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 22:46:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11793066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelukstraan/pseuds/gelukstraan
Summary: Spring awakens, spring promises life. He is the boy of my dreams, and the one I love till I am dying.





	Dreaming and dying

**Author's Note:**

> It is very short. It is meant to be a writing exercise (due to the fact English is not my first language). But I really did want to share. 
> 
> Till now I've only been reading Jonsa fics (so many omfg), and they're all so beautiful and good. So I decided to write one. 
> 
> There might be mistakes, they're all mine.

Am I dreaming or am I dying. I always imagined it to feel the same. Death and sleep, both a place for me to escape to from the reality. When Petyrs kisses are too close to my mouth to be proper, when the lords can’t keep their filthy eyes of me.

Am I dreaming or dying, when he snakes his arms around my waist. When his fingers undo me from my dress. His hand between my legs, crying a little when he feels there. It feels like I am dying, it is not the pain that makes me cry. I cry for mine shattered dreams, I cry for the person I will never be again, I cry for Sansa Stark, a death girl.

I think I am dying when I see his face. It sure must be a sweet heaven to see my father’s face again, to see Arya’s eyes again. But when he smiles, it is completely him. I must be dreaming.

I must be dreaming or dying, his hands around my waist, my face buried in his neck. He feels like home. I taste it on my tongue, repeat the word a couple times more in my head. Such a rare feeling, home, being home. “Sansa” It is the first thing he says, the only thing he says. Refusing to let me go, I refusing to let him go. Too afraid he might slip away if my touch lingers away from him.

It feels like a dream to be in the north, even if it is the wall. I welcome the cold, liking the feeling of my fingers freezing. If I die now, it will be a happy death.

Am I dreaming or dying, Jon his hands around Littlefingers throat, squeezing the life out him. I don’t want to look away, me smiling is the last thing he will see.

I dream of him so often, the only face I can see in my dreams. He reminds me of father so much, sometimes it hurts but most of the time it makes me happier.

His kisses feel like a dream, feels like the sweet promise of death. I let him kiss me everywhere, anywhere.

The white of my gown is a big contrast with the black of his. He kisses me before the tree my father worshipped so much.

After the war I am neither dreaming nor dying. A little boy with his black curls, but my blue eyes.

Spring awakens, spring promises life. He is the boy of my dreams, and the one I love till I am dying.


End file.
